


Did It Reach You?

by RyuichiroSakuraba



Category: Band Yarouze!
Genre: I Tried, Lyrics added for additional flavor, M/M, ShinxKyo, Shounen-ai, it's up to you to translate it on your own though, not so fluffy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-05
Updated: 2017-02-05
Packaged: 2018-09-22 05:24:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9585350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RyuichiroSakuraba/pseuds/RyuichiroSakuraba
Summary: Most of the time, the vocalist cannot keep up when his brain works faster than his words, but a certain sashimi-devouring drummer doesn’t particularly mind.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Whoa. Time flies. Work piles up and ugh, so tired. Pulling out a one-shot from my magical boxers in hopes to break the rapid onset of monotony from milling through work emails and sorts seemed to be a good idea at the moment. I kinda miss my students for a bit, but well, work priority matters. Hope they kinda miss me too. Lol.
> 
> Anyway, I’ve been exposed to some rhythm games on Android due to being curious why little brother’s tablet seems to be crashing cymbals late at night. He was playing School Idol or something of the sort, and when I looked at it, it was a bit too, well, fluffy for me? Then I stumbled upon Band Yarouze!, and whoa, I was hooked instantly, not to mention there was an event where Lotus Juice from the famous Persona series sung a track and whelp, he was the singer for the vocalist Shuji who resembles Sanada Akihiko a lot, and his card illustration was doing situps, shirtless and sweating, while skill activation flashed Shuji in an attire almost akin to his Trinity Soul look, sitting pretty on a chair while eating pancakes. Yep, totally like Sanada-senpai indeed. More reasons to get addicted.
> 
> Anyway, here’s an entry to the fandom. It’s not canon, but damn, it’s a ship-all-you-can sort of game anyway so yep.
> 
> Band Yarouze! isn’t and will never be mine. It it were, then Shin is off-limits to everyone but me.

Beginning R.

What a huge crowd. Front acts had been blaring through the crackly speaker sets inside the dressing room, and for some unknown reason, I felt uneasy.

Ray-san had his fingers dancing on across the fret board of his old yet shiny guitar, the pick sending faint, harp-like tunes in a wild dance, drowning in the midst of the static-laden bass and garbled lyrics streaming in the room. I kind of wondered how it sounded so differently when the said instrument was connected to an amp, but it probably for acoustic engineers to ponder about.

Makoto-san napped at the corner of the room, probably tired from his review sessions a few hours ago. It never failed to amaze me that he still had time for Osiris despite the fact that he’s pressured to excel in his university. Or he might not be pressured at all, judging by his calm persona before and after practice. Nothing fazed him. Sometimes, he didn’t even need to speak and yet it was fine. How I wish I could be like that.

Our bassist’s chest was too exposed; our gig clothes seemed to be that way, minus me for some reason. I don’t feel confident showing off my sinewy figure. Different spokes for different folks, I guess. Makoto-san would definitely have cold and if he missed his exams because of that, it’ll certainly be bad for his standing.

Walking up to grab at least a warm scarf to cover him up, a warmer hand prevented me from doing so.

“Kyo, leave him be,” Shin whispered a bit loudly, enough to reach distinguishable levels despite the noise, yet soft enough not to stop the trance of Ray-san’s impromptu practice session. “No one wants a grumpy Makoto. We’ve had enough of his and Ray’s bickering,” he continued with a chuckle, his voice resonating like a drum. “Seriously, I think they act like an old married couple half the time.”

“Hm? They do?” I wondered aloud, tilting my head to the side in confusion.

Shin let out a full-blown laugh and ruffled my hair. I fought the urge to sigh; it took an ungodly amount of time just to have a pristine hairstyle sitting nicely on top of your head. It felt really nice though. I don’t know, but I would definitely miss this.

“Did I say anything funny?”

“Nah. You’re just too precious,” our drummer boomed as he yanked my head into a non-choking noogie and continued to massage my scalp, amusement lacing his tone.

“Oi Shin, it’s nice that you don’t do that to my hair anymore, but please stop harassing Kyou-chan,” Ray-san muttered exasperatedly, a raised eyebrow and a frown marring his features. “See, he’s almost about to cry now.”

A sudden push almost had me flying across the room, only to be held at the shoulders by two large hands a heartbeat later.

“Oh! Were you?” Shin asked in alarm, though I’m highly dubious about that. Warm puffs of breath tinted with convenience store chewing gum fanned my face. What kind of mint was it?

“I’m not crying.”

“Good,” Makoto-san responded, awake in a snap; a feat none of us could manage. Everything about Makoto-san was ideal, from arriving on time for session to simply rousing from a quick nap. “It would be a complete disaster if Kyou couldn’t sing because of Shin- _oni-_ san’s antics.”

“We’ll make it work! Then, after this, our major debut is within our reach!” Ray-san exclaimed, totally forgetting why he scolded his childhood friend in the first place.

“Desperate much? As long as we do a performance that isn’t embarrassing at the very least, I’m satisfied with that,” our bassist said after an elegant yawn, popping a few cracks

“What’s with that mediocre way of thinking?” Ray-san fumed, immediately standing and attempting to knock some sense into him in a very literal manner.

“Alright, alright. Stop it, you two,” Shin growled, letting go of me in favor of intercepting Ray-san’s path. Fortunately (or  not), the dressing room door opened, revealing one of the staff announcing that it’s our turn to step on the stage.

“About time.” Makoto-san stood and slung his guitar case and headed out swiftly, each step reminding me of royalty and nobles in some of the books I read as a child.

“I’m not done with you yet!” Ray-san screeched, chasing the other, totally forgetting that he still had his instrument strapped around his torso, its polyester case lying sadly on the carpeted floor.

…that left me gazing at them from afar.

“Those two will never learn,” Shin sighed, grinning apologetically. “As a band, we should be doing those pep talks or probably a group cheer, but… Well, let’s just perform properly tonight, okay?” Adjusting his collar and twirling one of his signature drum sticks, Shin huffed and began to pace to the door, getting closer to the yells and howls of the raving audience.

Perhaps this was what they call treading on thin ice. Regally screwing up our set a month ago… The final straw.

Osiris was ending right before my eyes.

They just… Have they tried to do something that they didn’t want to do? Nothing’s sadder, more heartbreaking, and more excruciating than singing a song without feelings. If words carried the ideas of the brain, melodies carried the breath of the soul. And if I couldn’t seem to understand the meaning of a song, or if the sacred hymn wasn’t being interpreted with care, merely singing would be blasphemous – it felt like a crime to sing a song, _our song_ , without justice.

Or maybe I’m just lying to myself. I probably wanted to get my point across, but my own tongue failed me several times that I honestly lost count. The initial statement strongly stood still, but at the back of my mind, there’s this tiny buzz that I couldn’t brush off.

What am I singing for?

 

* * *

 

“Takara-kun.”

“Yes?”

A soft sigh.

“You’re daydreaming again,” a girl who worked part-time like me pointed out, swatting me with a fluffy duster.

It hurt.

“No, I’m not.”

I was quite sure I wasn’t, but she didn’t seem to be convinced.

“That guy didn’t ask anything, and he was just looking at me. If he wanted something, he could’ve asked,” I muttered, chewing at the inside of my cheek. How ironic. People should speak up to address their desires, no matter how lofty that was. Humans are creatures trapped in a vicious cycle of craving and satiation; we can never be contented.

I didn’t even know what I wanted in the first place.

That, or I already knew, yet my heart couldn’t find the urge to act up on it.

Somebody save me.

“Ah, he’s done with tonight’s shift, right? I’m fetching Kyo now,” a voice belonging unmistakably to Osiris’ drummer resonated beside me, accompanying the gentle jingles of the shop’s door chimes and the rustling of the warm material of Shin’s coat. “But before that, can you ring these up for me?”

“Takara-kun, if you please?”

Ah, that look. I felt like I’m being treated like a kid again.

I wish I could retort, but first things first.

Hm. Two pairs of unlacquered drum sticks, a few guitar picks, and two 12-volt batteries.

“Ray lost his stash of picks again and promptly lost one of my lone pair of sticks when he set his hair into a bun earlier,” Shin grinned awkwardly, as if the situation was a slight embarrassment on his part. I couldn’t imagine how Ray-san’s locks digested said drum stick as I punched his purchases with an old-fashioned barcode reader.

Shin’s mouth curved into a frown, his eyebrows furrowing when I took a sideways glance.

Did I do something wrong?

“Ray-san’s hair must have good enzymatic activity.”

“And you must be absorbing Makoto’s review materials nicely.”

His chuckle was sonorous, like a mellow cello – soothing, warming.

Shin had a very distinct melody of his own. It was beautiful; rugged yet kind. Would it be selfish if I wanted to be a part of it?

His eyes widened a bit at my poor attempt on hiding my laughter, abruptly switching his solo performance to an improvisation for two.

“Lightened up a bit, huh?” he grinned, huffing out his broad chest and crossing his arms over it, his trademark stance when he’s up to something good or no-good, but it’s usually for the better.

“How about getting some grub before we crash the studio? Makoto isn’t coming in the next two hours and Ray’s taking a nap at the spare couch,” he continued while he got stuck the paper bag of purchases under his left arm. My stomach just grumbled at the mention of food, and I had every right to feel embarrassed about it.  
  
“See? As much as you love tea, it can’t keep you from getting hungry the whole day. I’ll wait for you outside.”

He noticed?

 

* * *

 

The studio door squeaked and let in a draft of night air, effectively interrupting my train of thought. Practice ended quite a while ago, and I was positive that I’ll be the one locking up for tonight.

Soon, someone’s breath tickled my ear which made me jump a tiny bit and then I was enveloped with strangely comforting warmth.

“Whoa. That looks awesome,” Shin’s voice boomed, his chest reverberating against my back. “Have you told Ray and Makoto about this?”

“I…haven’t,” I admitted with a frown of reluctance. “I was planning to show these to you and the others once they're finished, but I guess the secret’s out of the bag now.”

Appalled, he took a step back. “Oh! Sorry about that! I’ll keep my mouth zipped,” he blurted, making a zipping-the-mouth gesture as I turned to face him from my seat. “But that aside, you know you could always ask us for help if you’re having trouble,” he said warmly, sounding more like a big brother rather than a colleague or a band mate. He then took a chair beside me and slumped on it the other way, his arms crossed over the back rest.

Shin squinted and leaned closer to the unfinished sheets, a finger tapping rhythmically against his bicep. “Hm… These ones have resemblances to Voice, while this one seems to have a marching band beat,” he pondered loudly, his other hand’s fingers skimming across the score. “Fusing these two would be interesting, but I’m unsure on how it would sound like.”

“I just… Please trust me on this. I can’t express myself well, and it’s my only chance to prove my worth,” I sighed, resting my hand on my elbow. “Everyone in Osiris has their own strengths; Makoto-san could follow a score with precision, Ray-san’s adlibs were extraordinary, and you are the heartbeat of everything we played. I…don’t have much to offer Osiris. I can’t even finish a song without stopping midway.”

“That’s probably the longest sentence I’ve ever heard from you.” Our drummer sighed and scratched his head. “You know what, Kyo? You’re one thing that keeps everyone together. You had us on your pep line during our first major live, as awkward it may have seemed,” he chuckled fondly at the thought of the poetic, sappy introduction, much to my embarrassment now that I’ve thought about it; it was just what I felt at that moment. “But yeah, Ray and Makoto won’t admit it loudly, but they’re sticking around because it’s your motivation that drives them. Even if you don’t speak out that much, the very songs that we play are testaments of what you can do.”

It was too much to bear. I don’t deserve such praise. I just did what I could; feelings can be fleeting, and I was merely catching it in the form of words and notes.

Some emotions linger for more than that, and they evolve over time that the score changes with its flow.

“You didn’t know that Makoto was out of words and Ray couldn’t stop mentioning how irreplaceable you are when they got drunk after playing our second single at that gig; you went home early but we were actually looking forward to have some drinks with you that night,” he explained, making it sound like a gossip rather than a concrete fact. “Now, don’t tell them I told you,” Shin grumbled in a low tone as if someone might eavesdrop. “We’re even now.”

I nodded with conviction. The idea that I’m now keeping a secret that we only knew was as mesmerizing like spring had come early, no matter how childish it might look like.

“Good! Now, let’s go drinking! Master gave me nice sake after delivering his fish order yesterday so let’s head to our shop and get wasted,” he said with glee, shoving the scores into its plastic folder and holding it over his shoulder.

“If that’s okay with you,” I agreed after a few seconds of deliberation. There’s no work tomorrow, and for some reason, there’s this sort of twinge in my chest that told me to see this through or I’ll never finish that other song. “You’re a lightweight without side dishes though.”

“That hurts, Kyo,” he mock-pouted, then transformed into his usual cheerful demeanor. “Got sashimi from today’s catch so it won’t be a problem, I assure you.”

With that, we stepped out of the studio, embracing the cool night breeze. Soon enough, the evening was filled with emerging music genres, Destirare fanboying, Shin’s oddly endearing laughter laced with booze, fish and cigarettes, a few bruises from his one-arm hugs and impromptu a cappella covers of our songs accompanied by his table-tapping and weird off-key voice that blended nicely as a second vocal.

Why was it so easy yet so hard to talk to Shin?

 

* * *

 

I never knew how fun it was to visit theme parks; my younger self might’ve been reluctant about it - seeing a lot of people that might misunderstand me the moment I spoke my mind. Now, I felt that it was okay just to be myself.

Ferris wheels. Bump cars. Cotton candy. Group selfies.

Makoto-san’s fear of horror mazes. Ray-san’s top scores at a Guitar Hero game. Shin’s relentless bull’s-eye dart hits.

All the excitement, yet I feel calm.

Deep down, there was a hint of contentment.

It didn't last long.

All the more when our drummer pulled me to try the merry-go-round.

In the afternoon sun, Shin was shining.

Spinning around in gentle circles, there was this slight wish welling up inside of me, hoping that this would never end.

Recollecting all the ups and downs Osiris had been through, they’ve always been there.

Shin has _always_ been there. Whether it was that time when I lost my voice, when I was struggling about my place in Osiris, when I had a hard time keeping up with my part-time job, when I had trouble how to respond to certain situations, even when I was just plain hungry because I missed dinner from too much thinking about song arrangements and writing new scores.

It might sound as if I'm too dependent, but it’s hard to ignore that during those god-forsaken times, he’s there. He’s _always_ there.

Each time.

Every time.

The final piece has been found after my endless searching.

The marching band awaits.

It’s about time to complete the song.

 

* * *

 

It has been a week after our holiday at the theme park and it was around a few minutes before our next duel gig at Master’s place. I had jitters since we’re contending with another band for regular appearance. Somehow, I was confident about our repertoire for tonight.

However, I had the urge to speak my words before they sink into the abyss of cold silence.

“The new song, you say?” Makoto-san sounded a tad skeptical. “Sure, we practiced that once or twice yesterday, and I’m sure we three can play it just like the score says, if Ray won’t mess it up, that is,” he said in a serious tone, earning a quick “Oi!” from Ray-san who was checking out his hair by the dressing room mirror. “We even haven’t heard the lyrics of that piece, and it is a drastic diversion from how we usually sound; would you still like to sing it tonight?”

Despite the apparent bluntness of Makoto-san’s words, he was stating it out of concern. The other band had a respectable reputation; hearing them play from the feed speaker in the room, it would be a tough match. Even their encore performance made the crowd cheer louder.

It’s not that I didn’t care about the outcome; we _want_ to win. But, the uneasy feeling in my gut told me that whatever it takes, I had to sing this one song tonight.

“Yes.”

“Haha. Don’t be too nervous,” Shin chided, light punching our bassist’s arm, Makoto-san letting out a soft “Oof!” but smiling good-naturedly. “Kyo surprised us with our previous song – he will wow us again this time, right Ray?”

Ray-san harrumphed and flipped his hair elegantly, facing us in a well-executed turn; it kind of made me wonder if he must be working at a host club. “Damn right! We’ll make them ask for one encore, then another, and then some more, they just wait! And Makoto, stop bullying Kyou-chan,” he said with a glare.

Makoto-san seemed immune to it, our bass guitarist simply adjusting his glasses with a finger.

“It’s called tough love for a reason,” he said with a smirk.

To my surprise (even if it probably didn’t look like it), Shin frowned and let out a cross between a sigh and a growl.

The crowd was ecstatic about the finale of the other band, and with the final crash of the cymbals, the time for us to go forward had come.

Our journey had a rocky start, meager beginnings, and hopefully, we get our happy ending.

At first, Osiris was just a voice, singing lonely in the middle of an empty hall. Diving into the madness of arguments, musical differences, and conflicting interests, we managed to find our way through the darkness.

For some bands, the arrangement of the songs that they play didn’t matter.

For now, we beg to differ.

Borrowing Shin’s words, our songs are the testaments of what we went through in order to stand in front of this sea of people, channeling our feelings, letting them experience the pains and the joys of Osiris, even for just a night’s performance.

 It didn’t matter which one we play first, but tonight, I would allow myself to be selfish.

The screams requesting for an encore left Osiris soaring in the middle of the stratosphere, relishing the cold air and the scorching sunlight against its wings.

“Thank you very much for having Osiris on stage and supporting us every step we take,” I started a bit nervously, if my sweaty hands were any indication. I looked at Makoto-san and Ray-san, before facing our silent audience.

“Tonight, you will see a different side of Osiris. I am still quite new to this, but we hope that you will all enjoy this song. I may not be good in expressing my thoughts in words, so I pray that my feelings will reach its rightful destination,” I continued with a small smile while gazing at Shin and nodding slightly.

Four drumstick claps and the sounds akin to a marching band resonated, the hopeful melody marking my gigantic baby steps.

 _Kaze ni fukarete yuragu doushi ni_  
_Battoru kimochi ga kesenakute_  
_Kimi wo sagashite boku wa samayou_  
_Tadoru ashiato michishirube_  
  
_Mayoikonda kono sekai de_  
_Itsuka mita natsukashisa to_  
_Kanjita koto nai omoi ni_  
_Atarashii tobira hirakareteiku_  
  
_Kagayaku touki no naka mabushii sekai de_  
_Hikari motomete mawaru meriigourando_  
_Afuredasu kioku wo tsunagu omoi wa_  
_Zutto zutto kono mune no oku de_

There was a hint of salt between my lips, and I didn’t know if it was sweat or tears.

My chest tightened, and it was a bit liberating – bitter yet sweet at the same time.

Even if it may actually be the end due to my selfishness, I would still etch it on my memory that for once, I had been brave enough to voice out the emotions that had been brewing in me for a long time.

The lights were suddenly too bright, almost burning my skin. The audience was silent for a beat until thunderous applause and yells filled the area to the brim, demanding for yet another song. I would love to sing more, but the judging would commence soon.

Everything was a blur afterwards; all I could sense was Osiris pulling me back to the center stage with the recording of our last song blasting off the sound system, cheers and wolf whistles intermingling with the tune that was definitely the sentimental side of Osiris.

“That was a blast, Kyou-chan! Well done!”

“I was expecting a slightly cheerful song, but who would’ve thought that it was actually an almost love song that you got under your sleeve?”

It should be one of Shin’s bruising one-arm hugs that I was about receive; however, it turned out to be gentle, warm, and proud. The hair-ruffling was a given, but this time, it was different.

 

In the midst of the applause and the stage lights, Shin’s whispered words were crystal clear.

“I, Koganei Shin, am gladly accepting those feelings. Please take care of me from here on out.”

 

Yes. I am positive that those were tears.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm about to let out a manly 'kyah!' now. I had this plot bunny running around my brain; Way of Light is Kyo's way of voicing out his realization. That, or it's simply a confession to Shin which he cannot say in a regular "Shin, daisuki desu." kind of way. Lol.
> 
> Gah. Work summons. Hope you liked it! Pardon if they're OOC or if I somehow murdered them; I just love Osiris.


End file.
